


A Fine Mess

by aliasmajik



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-01
Updated: 2013-08-01
Packaged: 2017-12-22 02:43:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/907952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliasmajik/pseuds/aliasmajik
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neither one of them were the type to attend funerals.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Fine Mess

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [trope-bingo](http://trope-bingo.dreamwidth.org), prompt "deathfic".

Neither one of them were the type to attend funerals. They had learned to say their good-byes in their own ways, separate and divided from the strangeness of a public display of grief. 

Clint had always flirted with a drinking problem that he had once commented, in a flippant way, must have been a genetic flaw. He drank when he felt grief, which she had never understood. Alcohol was a depressant. It wouldn't make him feel any better. Then again, she suspected that feeling better was not the point for him.

Natasha had always been a runner. She fled from grief with physical distance where once she had been separated from it with memory alteration. She had absolutely no scope to handle such strong, raw feelings, so she simply didn't. She ran until she didn't have to think anymore, and returned to her life only after the emotions had stopped chasing her. 

Together, they made a fine mess.

Agent Phil Coulson's funeral was scheduled precisely three days after the Battle of New York, as they were coming to call the invasion that the Avengers had thwarted. Three days. Natasha couldn't begin to wrap her head around so much change, destruction, death, in three days. She had too much to do. Debriefings. Paper work (so much paper work that it made her eyes go crossed). Endless contact from the other Avengers who didn't seem willing to let her fall through the cracks despite her best efforts.

Three days passed without the chance to run. She woke on the third day, panicked, because the emotions were baring down on her. She hadn't run because there'd been too much else to do, and now she was trapped. A knock on her door (a temporary apartment while the hellicarrier underwent extensive repairs) and she found herself staring at the dress that had been delivered earlier that morning. 

She stood in the middle of her bedroom dressed only in her bra and underwear, so when she heard the door click open, she spun, a gun in her hand. 

Who else would it be, but Clint? He looked as exhausted as she felt, but there was something in his eyes that was beginning to look like the old him. He'd spent three days performing extensive psychiatric and physical evaluations, to be cleared for active duty again. He'd have days, maybe weeks, more, too. He was sober, which surprised her, and he was dressed in a suit that flattered him, and unnerved her. His idea of formal wear, unless he was on a job, was his pair of jeans without all the holes, and maybe a button up. 

"Stark sent this over." He didn't even acknowledge the gun she'd trained on him; she'd lowered it the moment she recognized him. "Your dress, too, I'd wager." 

They stared at one another for a moment. She finally reached over to pick up the dressed, but her hands just crumpled the soft, slinky fabric, and she made a frustrated noise. 

Clint touched her arm, and she turned to look at him. She didn't cry. She didn't know if she knew how. But the stricken look on her face was raw and open in a way that only he'd ever seen it.

Him, and one other man, a man that she'd been unable to protect despite her responsibilities. 

"I miss him, too, Nat." Clint managed. The thick emotion in his voice broke her, and she wrapped her arms around him and just held on.

"I almost lost both of you, and I had to choose." She'd chosen Clint, and she'd live with that choice for the rest of her life. 

"Phil would have wanted you to choose me. He's always been our biggest fan." He'd, she mentally corrected. 

They just held on to one another for a long time, needing to feel grounded. Phil had been family to her, and she didn't have much family. 

"I'm going to miss him." She wasn't sure if she said it, or just thought it. But Clint made a soothing noise and ran a hand down the length of her hair. 

"We both are. We both are."


End file.
